


don't hold your breath

by johnnys



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Office AU, Smut, haven't written zino before but here we go, idk what this is, sad ending lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnys/pseuds/johnnys
Summary: woo jiho is trapped in the euphoria of his own reality. when it all comes crashing down, it feels like releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. (it also feels like his lungs are caving in.)
Relationships: Song Minho | Mino/Woo Jiho | Zico
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	don't hold your breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeysugarchocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysugarchocolate/gifts).



> this is a late birthday present for my dear friend hind! she won't shut up about zino so i gave writing them a go, just for her lol ♡
> 
> light smut warning. also, this was not the best zino piece, so forgive me.

woo jiho closes his eyes. breathes. he's sat on the table next to the photocopier and song minho's on his knees. just like last week.

it's become an unspoken arrangement between them, never verbally agreed upon, but always continued because neither of them seem to be able to live without it. days go by in between with heated stares across the office, where the same thoughts are running rampant through their minds. jiho suffers sweaty, sleepless nights thinking about it. and they always end up here, in the printing room, late on a friday when everyone else has gone home.

minho's fingers dig into jiho's thighs as he stands. "if you tell anyone about this--" 

"yeah, yeah, you'll  _ fucking kill me _ ," jiho sighs, still high on the release, and the sensation of minho's every touch. "whatever."

"i'm serious."

minho doesn't sound like he's serious. he sounds like he wants to kiss jiho again, to press his lips to every inch of his soft skin. there's a husky breathiness to his voice that crawls under jiho's skin and stays there, clawing its way into his heart. 

"just go then," he says. 

minho doesn't want to go. he looks like he would much rather stay, like he's ready for round two, like he wants to explore jiho's body with his mouth and whisper sweet nothings in his ear until there's nothing left in the cavity of jiho's skull but  _ feelings _ . terrible feelings. feelings so strong that they become overwhelming.

but minho turns, fingers closing around the door handle, and leaves. like he always does.

jiho runs a hand through his hair and exhales slowly. he pulls his trousers back on and tugs up the zipper, fixing his shirt and tie on his way to the door, covering delicate bruises with crumpled white fabric. fridays in the printing room are always too short, and they always end with minho walking away. maybe they're destined to be like this: barely together, but never really apart.

"fuck," jiho mutters, closing the door behind him. 

he'll just have to wait until next week.

  
  
  


༄

  
  


oxygen is easily wasted. which is why jiho wishes that kim jinwoo would shut up already and save some of it for everyone else.

"god, the traffic really was terrible this morning," he gushes for the fifth time since arriving at the office on monday morning. "don't you think it was awful, jiho?" 

jiho flicks his eyes up. jinwoo is all curly hair and small pouty lips that make him look like a doll. he's made of porcelain, fine china, easily breakable. he might as well have a sign on him that reads  _ fragile - handle with care _ .

jiho grunts. "mhm."

he doesn't have the energy to handle jinwoo with any amount of care.

"and i'm only late because it took me practically a year to find a parking space," jinwoo continues on. he's said all of this, in the exact same wording, more times this morning than any of his coworkers can count. "so if the ceo comes after me, you've heard it here first."

"christ, who cares what the ceo thinks," kwon hyuk speaks up from the desk near the shredder. "i'm late all the time."

"yeah, what do you get paid for, exactly?" jiho asks him, a glint in his eyes as he leans back in his chair to look at him.

hyuk scoffs. "i do more work than you, asshole," he tells him. "what's your job again? refilling the photocopier?"

"ha."

there's a noise of irritation from behind a huge stack of papers on kang seungyoon's desk. "can all three of you shut the hell up?" a paper is removed from the top of the pile. "some of us are trying to work."

hyuk slides over on his office chair wheels, joining jiho at his desk. "what's his problem?"

"his kid's teething," jiho explains.

seungyoon's been like this for at least the last week, having to function on next to no sleep. he was walking on clouds when his daughter was born, though everyone in the office knows the pregnancy was unexpected since his girlfriend had only just graduated at the time. bone-tired, sarky seungyoon makes a change from the smiley, sappy mess he was when the baby was born.

"sounds traumatic," hyuk shudders. "remind me never to have kids."

jiho snorts and throws a pen at him. "as if anyone would want to have kids with you."

hyuk holds his hands up and wheels his desk chair away. "whoa," he says, "that is  _ harsh _ . the women love me, jiho. it's a fact."

jinwoo looks over, waiting for his computer to turn on and load up. "his last girlfriend left him for a pre-med," he says informatively. "apparently she was into younger guys."

" _ okay _ , jinwoo," hyuk huffs, "my life story doesn't need a narrator, thanks." he catapults the pen back at jiho, who catches it deftly and starts tapping it against the desk. "hey, jiho, wanna go out friday night?"

"where?" jinwoo pipes up, insisting on being part of the conversation even though his computer's ready to go.

"not you," hyuk says, missing the look of disappointment on jinwoo's face. he answers the question anyway though, "that bar in hongdae, next to the tattoo parlour."

_ friday night _ . 

"it'll be fun," hyuk goes on. "come  _ on _ , you never drink with me anymore."

jiho shrugs. "i think i'm doing a late on friday."

he thinks.  _ he hopes _ . he's checked the rota, and it's still him and minho covering the late shift on friday, unless someone's changed it.

"so change it," hyuk pesters him, "ask jinwoo to cover you."

jinwoo frowns. "i thought i could go out with you guys," he objects through a dissatisfied mumble.

"yeah, well now you're doing the late on friday," hyuk tells him with a grin that makes jinwoo sigh. "come on, jiho, you haven't come out in  _ weeks _ . you spend way too much time in this office."

_ and not enough time in the photocopier room, wrapped around song minho. _

"ask me again when i actually like you," jiho says in flat refusal. "jinwoo, you're not doing the late."

"yes, you are."

"no, he's not." jiho throws another pen at hyuk, and then a pad of post-it-notes. "end of story."

like a breath of fresh air, song minho stalks into the office. the papers in his hands rustle under the breeze of the air conditioning vents on the ceiling. his expression, as always, is serious, with that little crease between his brows that jiho wants to iron out. 

he looks better with a smile. jiho wishes minho would smile more often, just so he can see his cheeks lift and his teeth flash between parted lips, and the crease between his eyebrows disappear for the briefest of moments.

"minho, are you on the rota for friday?" hyuk calls, swivelling round in his chair to try and catch minho's attention.

"everyone's on the rota for friday," minho says shortly, "unless they're skipping work like you always do."

"okay, that's unfair."

"not really."

hyuk heaves a long sigh and watches minho leaf through his paperwork when he sits down. "you're a prick, you know that, right?"

"yeah, i know."

(jiho fights the urge to laugh.)

"well," hyuk struggles along, trying to uphold a two-person conversation all on his own, "can you cover the work on your own on friday night? jiho and i wanna go drinking."

"hang on, i never agreed to this--" jiho begins to protest, but hyuk swiftly cuts him off again.

"it's for your own good, okay?" hyuk flashes him a sidelong glance. "your love life is sadder than mine. i'm helping you, trust me."

"i don't need your help."

"minho, can you please tell jiho how much he desperately needs to get out and meet some girls?" hyuk implores.

minho looks up to meet jiho's eyes from across the office. he shrugs.

"jiho can do what he likes."

  
  
  


༄

  
  


_ jiho can do what he likes _ . out of all the words in the world, woo jiho is sure those six are his favourite - strung together in that exact order, and coming out of song minho's mouth. 

he doesn't go out with hyuk on friday night. 

he's on the late shift.

again.

the lights are still on throughout the building, bright and garish in such soft silence. every footstep echoes, and even the slightest breath or the quietest whisper ricochets across the office block like a bullet. the ceo still hasn't finished work. jiho's waiting for him to go home. maybe that will take the tension out of his shoulders.

he can hear minho  _ tap tap tapping _ away at his keyboard on the other side of the office, both too close and too far for jiho's comfort. 

jiho strains his ears for the sound of a car engine starting up several floors down. he crosses the room to the long windows and pries the blinds apart with two fingers. the carpark is a long way down but if he stares hard enough he's almost certain he can make out the shadowy figure of the ceo and his briefcase, quickly followed by the white reverse lights on his new mercedes. the car pulls away from the building and jiho releases a sigh he didn't even know he was holding back. 

minho looks up from his desk.

jiho bites his lip, hot under the collar. "coffee?" he asks no one in particular, even though he and minho are the only two left in the office.

"black." minho looks back down at his computer screen. "no sugar."

"sure." jiho walks quickly to the door and buzzes himself out with his work pass. the moment the heavy door slides shut, he leans against it, loosening the tie around his neck.

jiho doesn't know what to think, or what to do. none of his encounters with song minho in the printing room have ever been pre-planned. they just seem to… happen. and friday night on the late shift always seems to be the perfect opportunity. now that they're almost alone in the building though, jiho isn't sure what minho has in mind - if anything. 

he hurries to the kitchen. to make coffee.

one mug is rounded and orange, and a sketchy illustration of an elephant on one side. it was a present from jiho's sister a couple of christmases ago. he makes himself a mocha, stealing jinwoo's hot chocolate from the cupboard and hoping he doesn't notice. he likes it sweet and milky, with just enough caffeine to get him through the next hour or two.

in the other mug - a tall black one with a chip on the rim - he stirs through liquid as dark as death itself. it looks like poison, jiho decides, like something out of a wicked fairytale. minho clearly likes it bitter, with enough of a kick to keep his brain alive and static with energy. 

jiho can't understand how he can drink this on the regular. it looks like a heart attack.

"here," he says when he gets back to the office, his heart running the one hundred metre sprint in his chest and never stopping. he places the mug down on minho's waiting coaster, standing over his desk like a phantom.

the lights are off in the office when he gets back, with only minho's desk lamp still on.

minho takes a sip and glances up. "thanks," he says, and he doesn't look away this time.

jiho's barely two feet away, holding that orange mug in both hands while the steam rises in curly wisps like mist on the horizon in the early morning. his cheeks are dusted with the faintest pink flush and his hair is unruly, as usual, falling messily over his forehead. all of minho's resolutions melt away.

"this is…" the words catch in the back of his throat and he remembers to breathe. "it's not half bad."

"not half bad?" jiho chokes out through a burst of hesitant laughter. "it's  _ all _ bad. drinking that must be like drinking bleach."

minho can't help the smile that struggles to lift his cheeks. "i like my coffee bitter."

"i figured." jiho smirks.

taking another sip of his drink, minho sets the mug down on the desk. "you didn't go out tonight," he observes. "jinwoo would've switched shifts with you if you'd asked."

jiho takes a slow step closer, and places his round orange mug next to minho's. "i didn't want to ask," he says. "i like my late shifts on friday nights."

minho reaches out and his fingers curl around jiho's tie as he pulls him in. he smirks in the same way jiho did and murmurs, "i figured."

jiho lets himself be pulled into minho's domain, to be held within his grasp. he climbs onto minho's lap, the taller's thighs between his knees. "it doesn't take a genius to figure me out," he whispers in his ear, while his palms rest on minho's chest and travel up to loosen his tie and undo the first few buttons on his shirt.

"i feel like that was an insult," minho replies. his hands move to jiho's hips, gripping them tighter and pressing them harder into his own.

"is it turning you on?" jiho's lips brush against minho's face, ghosting over his ear before delivering an open-mouthed kiss to the skin just below his jaw.

"everything about you is fucking turning me on," minho says under his breath, but jiho hears it.

"you're such a fucking tease," he groans, desperate for something more than just friction and minho's hands on his ass. " _ do something _ ."

so minho grips jiho's thighs and lifts him onto the desk, and jiho manages to unbuckle himself and find the zipper on his suit trousers. his legs hook around minho's hips and he leans back against the computer screen and keyboard. minho pulls the trousers down to jiho's knees and, to jiho's surprise, starts undoing his own belt.

"i… i thought you were just gonna suck me off," he breathes dizzily, "like last time."

minho's gaze is intense. "well, do you want more?"

jiho drags his teeth over his plush lower lip and slides a hand under minho's shirt. "of course i fucking want it, you idiot," he says, rushing over his words in his impatience. 

so minho wraps an arm around jiho's lower back to pull him in and work him open. there are a lot of things hidden in minho's desk drawer that jiho is very curious to know about. minho's thrusts are quick, and every movement makes a moan escape from the back of jiho's throat - almost loud enough to be heard on the other side of the building. 

"shouldn't we be doing this in the printer room?" jiho mumbles, his voice starting to sound ragged and laboured, with breath catching in every syllable.

"isn't it a bit late for that now?" minho points out breathlessly, leaning into jiho's body on the desk to find the best angle. 

"yes, but this is supposed to be a secret," jiho whines. his fingers are digging into minho's back, searching for something to latch onto over that expanse of smooth skin. 

it's supposed to be a secret. minho made that very clear. but there's something exhilarating about being all exposed in the middle of the office, fucking on minho's desk. maybe it's the thrill. scared of being caught, but doing it anyway.

"i can pull out now, if you'd like," minho teases, though he doesn't slow down.

"no!" jiho begs instantly, his tone going all pouty and wheedling. "don't, i'm so close…"

the whine in jiho's voice gets under minho's skin, and he moves harder, faster, chasing after a high it seems he will never reach. as they both climax, jiho wishes minho would just kiss him, on the lips, until both of them are out of breath. he wishes the balance of love and lust was a little more even, with affection creeping up the scales to match desire. he wishes there was something more to this than just sex.

there's the clatter of car keys on the floorboards, and a shadowy figure looms in the doorway. 

they freeze.

"jinwoo?!" jiho squeaks out, his voice a little hoarse from the number of moans he's been trying to keep from escaping his throat.

jinwoo. porcelain doll kim jinwoo,  _ handle with care _ . he looks as though he's been shattered - fine china smashed into a million pieces - as he stands there speechless, staring at them. it's like he doesn't know where to look, eyes blinking in shock as he looks from them to anywhere else in the room, trying his best to avert his eyes. 

jiho briefly considers blurting,  _ it's not what it looks like! _ but it is exactly what it looks like - song minho inside woo jiho, both of them displaying some very inappropriate behaviour for the office. 

"i… i forgot my--" jinwoo mutters, clears his throat, and scurries towards his desk. "i left my wallet behind."

all of the words die on jiho's tongue. he watches jinwoo scramble to find the wallet in his desk drawer and flee the scene of the crime as quickly as humanly possible. the door slams shut and the only witness is as good as gone.

minho pulls out and tugs his trousers back up to his hips. the heat between them has already dissipated, and minho is cold. jiho can't read his expression at all.

"minho--"

"it's over," minho interrupts. he can't even look at him. 

jiho's left there, dazed, on minho's desk as he watches him walk away. "you can't just say that."

"i'm going to lose my fucking job when he goes running to the ceo tomorrow morning," minho says shortly, a few paces away when he stops, "so you'll probably never see me again."

"but why would you--"

minho heaves a sigh, the heavy burden of the truth weighing on his shoulders. "the ceo is my father's friend," he explains. "i only landed this job because he put in a good word for me."

"so the ceo wouldn't--"

"the ceo hates... people like you, jiho," minho snaps, "and me. so if jinwoo talks, i get fired, and my entire family will disown me. happy?"

jiho isn't happy. minho walks away again, with that frown etched into every crease of his face, and jiho is left to deal with the soaring highs and crashing lows - with his emotions, that are like a murky ocean on a stormy night. he doesn't feel happy, because without minho, jiho isn't sure he knows how to feel at all.

  
  


༄

  
  


it's a bleak monday morning when the fear sets in. the dread.

jiho spends the whole weekend in bed. after friday night's disaster, he can't bring himself to answer a phone call or send a text. he shuts himself away from the world, ignoring every butterfly stabbing at his heart. he's usually quick-witted and laid-back, but he can't even manage to reply to hyuk's  _ pun of the week _ that he sends on sunday. 

maybe it's better if they just part ways. it's obvious that song minho isn't good for him, even his sister would tell him that if she knew what was going on. if things ended now, jiho could move on. maybe.

but it's the fear of being found out that really worms its way between jiho's ribs and stays there, festering. minho clearly isn't out yet, not if he's so afraid of his family knowing the truth. jiho can't bear the thought of minho being outed against his will, and that he played a part in it all. but maybe jinwoo won't talk.

(it's a ridiculous notion. jinwoo will always, always talk.)

jiho takes the elevator up to the office. it feels like everyone's looking at him, even when they aren't. it feels like everyone knows. jiho wouldn't care, but his heart breaks when he thinks about minho.

"morning!" says hyuk, surprisingly chipper for a monday, actually typing away at his computer instead of slacking off for once.

jiho approaches suspiciously. "are you sober?"

hyuck scoffs. "i don't spend  _ all _ my weekends drinking, jiho."

"just most of them."

"oh, shut up." hyuk's laughing though, and he refrains from throwing the stapler at jiho on his way to his desk. "before i forget, jinwoo was looking for you this morning."

it's a punch to the stomach.

"he was? uh… did he say why?"

hyuk just shrugs, barely glancing over. "i don't know," he says. "he just asked where you were, and if you were coming into work today."

"where is he?" jiho demands, fighting a losing battle to maintain oxygen flow into his lungs as he searches the room while the panic sets in. 

"god, i don't know, i'm not his babysitter," hyuk sighs. "toilet, maybe? why do you care-- jiho?"

jiho's already stalking out of the office door and down the corridor before hyuk can even finish asking his question. he bursts into the men's bathroom, ready to confront jinwoo and start a fight up until the moment that he sees him. and then he stops.

"j-jiho?" jinwoo stammers, looking up from the sinks and the mirrors he stands before. the sound of running water fills the silence between them. "i… i need to talk to you…"

"just tell me," jiho says quietly, already defeated. "did you tell anyone? the boss? when's my last day?"

jinwoo shakes his head and turns off the tap, drying damp hands on his suit jacket. "i didn't tell anyone," he whispers.

"you sure about that?" jiho takes a step closer. the blood boils in his veins. "no-one?"

"i swear." jinwoo nods his head quickly, unable to hide his nerves. "i wouldn't. it's none of my business, and i don't want to get either of you fired."

jiho lets out a heavy breath, and loosens his tie, leaning on the edge of the sink for support. "you messed up everything, jinwoo," he mutters bitterly. "things were fine as they were. why did you have to forget your fucking wallet?"

"i'm sorry," jinwoo says, and there's a tone of guilt behind his soft voice. "did you guys break up or something?"

"we were never together."

it hurts to say it out loud.

"oh." 

_ yeah _ .

they were never together. of course, they were  _ together _ , in the literal sense of the word. they were always together on the friday late shift - too close to be  _ just friends _ . but they had never been official. there was never any confirmation of any mutual feelings or affections. maybe jiho feels those things alone.

"i should go," jiho mutters. he can't bring himself to look at his reflection now. he stares at the gaps in the floor tiles.

"jiho, i'm sorry--"

"it's fine." jiho shrugs and turns to leave. "thanks for… you know." 

jinwoo looks on helplessly as jiho turns his back and pushes against the door. "you don't have to thank me."

so jiho doesn't.

when he gets back to the office, minho's desk is empty. it's like he had never been there, never existed. every trace of him has been removed - from the coffee cup stains to the random scribbles on post-it notes that used to litter the computer screen. jiho hadn't noticed the emptiness the first time he'd stepped into the office that morning. now, it's all that consumes his mind.

"what happened to minho?" 

"hm?" hyuk glances up when he hears his voice. "oh, i dunno. his desk was like that when i came in this morning. i think he quit."

there's a place in jiho's heart that's as empty as the space on minho's desk. except in jiho's heart it's red and raw and hurting, and the desk is clinically clean. he crosses the room to the window, knocking over a pile of papers next to hyuk's desk, and peers through the blinds, through layers of crystal glass.

minho's car isn't in it's usual spot.

it's nowhere to be seen.

jiho closes his eyes. breathes. he thinks of minho, and the warmth behind his cool gaze, and the touch of his hands, and the heat on his skin. he thinks of the words minho used to whisper in the back of his throat when he thought jiho couldn't hear them. jiho wonders whether he'll ever see him again.

he exhales.

**Author's Note:**

> more zino on it's way in the near future, to make up for this slight mess (?)


End file.
